I-Scream
by Loopstagirl
Summary: Survivor's guilt is a hard thing to deal with. Even for men used to saving the world on a regular basis.


_Hey all! I am still here, honest! Few things being worked on so hopefully have something for you shortly. For now though, I stumbled across this on my computer earlier, so thought I would give it a clean up and a post! Hope you like it._

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights belong to their respective owners._

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John was used to quiet when a rescue came to an end. As soon as his brothers confirmed the job was done, he would run diagnostics on the area, hack into the local authority's systems… whatever it took to make sure everything was safe and his family wouldn't be called back out again. He listened to their banter as they raced for home or he understood their silence as shock and exhaustion after a hard rescue took its toll.

But they were used to not hearing him and being slumped in the passenger seat of Thunderbird Two rather than being on Five didn't change that. Alan was taking his rotation out in space and John had been eager for some field time. He knew he wasn't as practised as his brothers and wanted to prove he was as physically capable on a rescue as they were.

Now, he didn't know why he had been so keen. He felt sick when he thought about it. He had wanted to make a difference so badly but so many lives had been at stake. C _hildren's_ lives. Lives he hadn't been quick enough to save.

"John?" Virgil's voice was soft. John looked up and saw the screen was active, Scott watching as well. John knew what Virgil was asking and shrugged.

"Shouldn't you be looking at the skies?" he said.

" _John…_ "

"Both of you?!" His sharp reprimand silenced Scott for once. He saw the two of them exchange glances but neither said anything else. John went back to staring at his hands.

He should have been able to reach that little boy. He needed to stretch only a little further. But the crumbling house had made it impossible and John knew if Scott hadn't yanked him back, he would be dead himself. He didn't blame Scott, even if his tone suggested otherwise. He blamed himself. He blamed the world.

Virgil didn't try and engage him in conversation again. John knew he should apologise. He had witnessed enough bad rescues to know bottling it up didn't work. He was normally the one trying to encourage his brothers to open up, safe that they could only glare when he was in the depths of space. That was all Virgil had been trying to do: help. And John had snapped at him.

His throat closed up though and he couldn't say anything. He didn't want to. It felt good to hold on to his anger, even if he was directing it at the wrong people. He stared despondently at his hands and sighed. The boy's fingertips had been brushing against his own when Scott had yelled and the house had disappeared, swallowed up by the gaping ground as if it had never existed. John clenched his hand, digging his nails into his palm.

He should have moved quicker.

It was only when the engines died did he realise they were home. He looked up to find Virgil had swung his chair around and was watching him intently. John forced himself to hold Virgil's gaze. He was the older brother, damn it, he was not going to let Virgil stare him down. But it was hard not to look away. Not when there was such understanding in Virgil's eyes.

"John…"

"Don't, Virg." John tried to ignore the way his voice cracked. To his credit, so did Virgil. Virgil sighed, climbing out of his seat and moving towards the exit. His hand rested fleetingly on John's shoulder as he thumbed in the sequence that would release the doors.

"Go and get cleaned up, Johnny," he murmured. "It will help. Debriefing can wait."

He left with just a squeeze of his hand. John stayed where he was, staring with unseeing eyes at the control panel in front of him. All that technology at their disposal and at the end of the day, it had been human error that had cost the boy his life. John's error. For not moving quickly enough, for not stretching far enough.

How long he sat there, John didn't know. Eventually though, the cool air seeping in from the silos began to get to him and he couldn't deny he was shivering. Hugging his arms around himself, John slowly stood up and moved out of the 'bird. He kept his eyes on the floor as he made it up to the villa. Once there, he hesitated in the doorway to the lounge.

Both Scott and Virgil were in there, dressed in casual clothes again and talking in soft voices. John watched them. He couldn't hear their words but he didn't need to in order to know they were talking about the rescue. When Scott squeezed the back of Virgil's neck gently – an action he had done to comfort their younger brother for as long as John could remember – he knew he was not the only one taking it hard. It didn't help. It just made him feel more alone as he moved silently away again.

He knew should he walk in there, both of his brothers would know exactly what to do in order to comfort him as well. But John didn't want to be comforted. Not when he wasn't yet sure how he was feeling about what had happened. He moved quietly to his room, stripping off his uniform and turning the heat of the shower up.

If there was one thing aside from his grandmother's cooking that he missed while being on the station, it was a hot shower. The power of the jets here were ten times what they were on Five and John lost himself to the sensation. For a few moments, he could just forget as the water drove the chill from him and washed the mud and dirt from where his uniform hadn't protected him. But he couldn't hide from his thoughts forever and he eventually stepped out, drying and dressing himself.

He knew he should go back downstairs. They would wait until he felt up to it for the debriefing, but John knew that details would be forgotten the longer he waited. But even with his fingers brushing over his door handle, he couldn't bring himself to leave the safety of his room. Shaking his head, John backed away from the door and crashed down on his bed instead.

After half an hour or so, he heard Scott come to his door. Although his older brother knocked and pleaded with John to let him in, he didn't try and force the door. John hadn't even locked it but felt a flash of gratitude that Scott was leaving it up to him whether he wanted company or not. Staying quiet, he buried his head under the pillow and waited until Scott had gone again.

But he was more exhausted than he thought, for he fell asleep. It was dark when he awoke, although one glance at the clock revealed it was still early evening. The winter nights were drawing in and John shivered again as he stood up. Rummaging around, it didn't take him long to find an old favourite sweater and draw it on. Then he opened his balcony doors and stepped out, toes curling at the cold stone. Resting his elbows on the railing, he tilted his head back and stared at the heavens. Although the night was dark, the sky was clear and John sighed as his gaze traced out the familiar patterns of the constellations.

As always, it helped calm his mind. But his heart felt heavy and he didn't stay out there for too long. The door shutting behind him made him sigh and he sat down at his desk. Seeking out his brothers might have been the best thing to do but John wondered whether his father's scotch might be better. Knowing he had to do something or he would go mad, John braced himself to get up off the chair and go downstairs. Before he could do so, however, the sound of music reached his ears. John smiled a tight smile, glad that Virgil was finding some release despite what the day had brought them.

But as he began to rise from his chair, John stopped. He lowered himself back down again as he listened to precisely what his brother was playing and a more genuine smile tugged reluctantly at his lips. It was one of his favourite tunes, one he always liked hearing his brother play.

Feeling better than he had done for hours, John finally made it to his bedroom door. He pulled it open, made to take a step and almost fell over his own feet as he tried to stop himself from stepping on his little brother.

"What are you doing?"

Virgil glanced up at him. The keyboard was balanced across his lap where he was sitting on the floor. John knew he must have turned the volume down considering he hadn't noticed the music was coming from right outside of his door. Virgil's fingers faltered as he looked up at his brother, but then he continued to play with a shrug.

"Cheering you up."

"You're sitting in the middle of the floor."

"Playing your favourite song. I would have come in, but I didn't think you would let me."

John stepped back, opening his door wider as an invitation to his brother. Virgil scrambled up, tucking the keyboard under his arm. He entered and John turned to shut the door. By the time he turned back, Virgil was sitting cross-legged on his bed, fiddling around with the buttons on his keyboard.

"I didn't think you liked playing that."

"John, you're my brother and I love you but if you thinking I'm hauling the piano up here…" Virgil's voice trailed off and he grinned. Despite himself, John smiled back, perching back on the edge of his chair. For a moment, he let Virgil fiddle until the music was filling the air again.

"What are you doing here, Virg?"

Virgil's fingers didn't falter even though he wasn't looking what he was doing. He sighed.

"Bad rescues suck."

"I know." John didn't know what Virgil expected him to say to that. Even though he wasn't out in the field as much, he still felt it when something went wrong. He swallowed and looked down. If only he had stretched a little further…

"But we have to get over it."

Virgil's tone was harsh and John's head jerked up. He knew in one glance Virgil didn't mean it that way; he was telling himself as much as John. He seemed to realise how he had come across for his fingers faltered for a second before regaining his rhythm.

"I mean…" Virgil swallowed and John could see he was trying to find the right way to say things. "We do a lot of good out there, right? We save a lot of lives. We always have done."

John nodded. He didn't think he could voice what was going through his mind. It was all too complicated when he could still see the boy's face. But Virgil ploughed on.

"And if we let everything that goes wrong haunt us, we'd be useless. The world is a crappy place. We know that, we had to learn that young. But that doesn't mean we can give up and just let that bad stuff win. Otherwise there wouldn't be any of the good bits left."

Virgil lifted one hand from the keyboard to run it through his hair in frustration.

"I mean…"

"I know what you mean," John said softly. He could see how much his brother was trying to put it into words without sounding cold hearted. But John did understand. If they hadn't been there today, that boy would have still died. So would have countless others they had managed to get to safety while the earth literally opened up at their feet. Virgil caught his eye and smiled, a more genuine one this time as he realised John did understand. He finished playing and John listened in silence.

"Why did you come here?" He asked quietly when Virgil was done. He knew that Scott and Virgil often sought out each other's company after a rescue, especially a bad one. Virgil smiled as he wriggled to the edge of the bed so he could stand up again. He tucked the keyboard under his arm and took a step towards John's door.

"Sometimes it's the small good things that reminds me to keep doing what we do. I thought you might need that. To see that good things still happen even when everything else has gone to hell."

Virgil left and the click of the door shutting felt like a lock turning to John. He sprung off his seat, wrenched open the door and headed towards the kitchen. There was a light on so he knew he wasn't the only one seeking sanctuary in it.

It came as no surprise to see Scott perched on one of the bar stools, a beer in his hand as he lent back against the wall, gazing across the room with unseeing eyes. John knew his big brother didn't allow himself to drink a lot – they could be called out at any point. That was John's signal that the rescue had been bad even by Scott and Virgil's standards. John suddenly realised he didn't feel as if he had failed out there any longer.

"Hey," he said quietly, crossing the room and opening the fridge. He pulled out a beer of his own before balancing it on the top and stretching up to reach the freezer.

"You okay?" Scott murmured. John nodded, finding what he was looking for. Balancing it in one hand, he reached across, grabbed two spoons and awkwardly picked up his drink before going to sit next to his brother.

"What are you doing?"

"Being reminded of the good things in life," John murmured. He opened his drink before prising the lid of the ice-cream and handing a spoon to Scott. "Want some?"

He already knew he wouldn't have to ask. Sure enough, Scott quickly attacked the pot, putting his drink down as he did so. John took a gulp of his before fending his brother off with his own spoon.

"John?"

"Hmm?" John kept his spoon in his mouth as he tried to hide the brain freeze from Scott.

"You did well out there today." Scott's words were soft and quiet and by the time John took the spoon out, his brother was going back to eating. It was like he hadn't said anything at all. But John smiled.

Virgil was right. He had needed reminding of the good things in life. Today might have gone badly, but they had still saved people. They had still done their job. And he knew if the call came in again, they would do the same all over again. Being here, home on the island with his family was how he got through it. It was how he would always get through it, knowing he wasn't alone.

It might mean he lost most of his ice-cream to his big brother but John would take that over sitting in his room any day.


End file.
